


vaerʼtrouv

by saignant



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: A little, Fanart, Geralt is a bit of a slut, Iorveth faces some fears, M/M, Porn With Plot, Short & Sweet, What else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saignant/pseuds/saignant
Summary: “So,” Geralt said. “When are you going to take that damned cowl off?”“Maybe next time.”“That's what you said last time. And the time before that. Wearing that during sex has to be uncomfortable. Besides, I already saw.”“But that was before.”





	vaerʼtrouv

“So,” Geralt said. “When are you going to take that damned cowl off?”

“Maybe next time.”

“That's what you said last time. And the time before that. Wearing that during sex has to be uncomfortable. Besides, I already saw.”

“But that was before.”

“Before?”

“Before we had sex.”

They were lying in Geralt's bed in Corvo Bianco, both already naked. Geralt leaned down to kiss Iorveth. “You do know I don't mind the scars, do you? Got some myself, and with some, I mean a lot.”

“It's not the same Geralt. The Aen Seidhe are supposed to be... “ Abruptly, Iorveth changed the subject. “Ride me, Gwynbleidd, “ Iorveth said, rubbing his already hard cock against Geralt's equally hard one.

Gerald growled. “You just want me to do all the work.”

“True,” answered Iorveth with a small grin. “And I want to see you writhing on it like a wanton bitch!”

“Geralt's cock twitched. “Hey. I'll have you know, I'm not that easy.”

“No, Geralt, you're even easier.”

“Aren't you supposed to be sweet-talking me?” Geralt asked, mock hurt.

“Oh, but I am.”

Iorveth coated two of his fingers with a sweet smelling, slippery ointment they kept near their bed, and began to work the salve into Geralt's body. Their last round hadn't been long ago, and Iorveth's fingers met little resistance. When he found a certain spot inside, Geralt got on his knees and positioned his arse above the elf's cock.

Iorveth slicked himself up, then held his cock so that Geralt could slowly sink down on it.

Geralt moaned with pleasure, having Iorveth inside of him just felt too good.

Geralt began to rock back and forth, setting a slow pace, but clenching and unclenching his muscles, wringing equal sighs of bliss from Iorveth's mouth.

“Ge...ralt,” Iorveth said haltingly. “You still want to... to see me?”

“Goddess Melitele, I do!” Geralt leaned forward. Together, they undid the elaborate headscarf, baring Iorveth's disfigured side, the angry red scar and the empty eye socket. Iorveth's hair was damp with sweat, greasy from wearing the cowl and matted to his head, but Geralt ran a hand through the dark strands nonetheless. 

“Must be much more comfortable without that damned thing, “ he muttered.

Iorveth seemed to already regret his decision, deceptively casual, he threw his right arm over his face. 

Naturally he couldn't fool Geralt, who, in the meantime had taken up the leisure rocking motion again. “That, my Aen Seidhe, is cheating, and you know it won't do. Besides, your hand is dearly needed … here.” Geralt took Iorveth's right and guided it, determinate, to his cock.

Iorveth, annoyed, gripped his cock maybe a little too hard, had Geralt not been a witcher. He instead put his own hand above Iorveth's, forcing him to keep up the grip, urging him to pick up the pace, too.

“Mmmmh, perfect.” 

Meanwhile Geralt had kept his gaze on Iorveth's face. It was true. Geralt didn't mind the scars one bit. His beautiful elf was marred by battle. So what. The missing eye wasn't beautiful, but to Geralt it wasn't hideous, either. He had barely kept his own eye once, his facial scar a souvenir from a particular nasty cockatrice.

Iorveth lifted his left hand, and, seemingly knowing Geralt would stop any other attempt at hiding, stroked Geralt's thigh, pinched his nipples and caressed his face. Geralt picked up the pace and switched the languid rocking motion to a much quicker rhythm, fucking himself hard and fast on Iorveth's cock.

Since his disfigurement, Iorveth had never felt himself so close to a lover. Had never let him or her see his whole face. He felt naked and vulnerable, but at the same time loved and accepted, and when Geralt climaxed above him, taking Iorveth with him over the edge, he could feel tears running down his face.

Geralt let Iorveth's cock slip out of him and collapsed onto the bed. He was sticky and spent, but wasted no time to snuggle up to the elf, promptly discovering the others tears. 

“I'm sorry, you don't have to take it off next time, “ Geralt said, misunderstanding.

“No!” Iorveth exclaimed. “You did right. Maybe I should have done this much sooner, but I'm glad it was with you.” Iorveth nestled against Geralt, determined to worry about the mess they'd made in the morning.

Geralt was soon drifting off, thinking Iorveth was already fast asleep, when his witcher senses picked up three softly muttered words.

**Author's Note:**

> vaerʼtrouv: means “to hope, to trust” in the elder speech *smile*


End file.
